


You look like my next mistake

by numinousnumbat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Coming Out, Drinking, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Safer Sex, Sex, Supportive Ron Weasley, Swearing, this isn't pwp but there is a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numinousnumbat/pseuds/numinousnumbat
Summary: Draco is a barman at a gay pub and Harry is new to all of this. (Oblivious Draco / Inexperienced Harry.)





	You look like my next mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly compliant with the books, but not the epilogue. 
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift's "Blank Space."

I look up from the limes I’ve been slicing by spellwork and see maybe the last two people I expected, who happen to also be the last two people I want to see. Ron Weasley and his sidekick Harry Potter coming into _my_ pub on _my_ shift. Hell _no_.

“No, no, NO!” I shout at them. “This is a gay pub, not a zoo, get out.” I make shooing motions with my hands.

I haven’t noticed that they’re in their Auror uniforms, but Cassius, the owner of the Auriga Arms and my boss, has noticed from where he’s doing the weekly inventory next to the till. He shoots me a look, and says to them, “Welcome, Aurors, what can we do for you?” I hate him.

Harry looks surprised and Ron is looking around. “Pleasure, not business,” Ron says. He slides onto the stool in front of me. Harry ends up standing awkwardly next to him.

“There’s a dress code,” I tell them. “Work uniforms not allowed.”

“There’s no dress code,” Cassius says. “Aurors are always welcome here. Draco, the first round is on us.” _Stop being a prat_ goes unsaid.

Ron beams at me. Harry looks like he needs the toilet. “Sit down,” I snap at him. “What do you want, I don’t have all day.” I’m clearly lying as it’s Tuesday and we won’t have more than a handful of people until after eight. Cassius could probably handle it on his own, but he’s nice about making sure I get enough hours to make rent.

“Firewhiskey,” Ron says. Ugh, straight people were put on this earth for the single reason to annoy me. I make an Old Fashioned and slide it across the bar. “One Cocksuckers Special.” I give him a big fake smile.

He takes a sip. “That’s pretty good,” he says. “Harry, do you want a Cocksuckers Special?”

Harry is edging closer to the stool and shakes his head no. “Um, water please,” he mumbles.

I make a piña colada, add five pink umbrellas and a straw that’s shaped like a dick. “One Up the Arse,” I say as I sit it in front of him. He’s barely on the stool and he looks at the drink and back up at me.

“I think it’s time to go,” he says to Ron.

“We just got here,” Ron replies. “And I have this Cocksuckers Special to drink.”

Harry avoids the straw and takes a sip of his piña colada. “It’s sweet,” he says in surprise. “Kinda like Butterbeer.”

I’ve mentioned how much straight people annoy the hell out of me, right?

Ron leans over and uses the dick-shaped straw to take a sip. “I like Up The Arse better than the Cocksuckers Special,” he announces to me. He’s having entirely too much fun, and that was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.

I pretend to be very busy. The limes are finished, so I start on the oranges. It’s faster to do it by hand, but the spells are more precise, and less sticky. “When do people show up here?” Ron asks. “If someone were interested in hanging out in a pub with the sort of people that come here.”

I shrug. “Depends on the day, but 7 or 8.” It’s just past 5, and I’m hoping they won’t stay here annoying me for the next few hours.

“What about on Fridays, when do people show up?” Ron is chatty; Harry is mostly staring down at the bar.

“About the same,” I tell them. “But no one comes in their work clothes. Although you could probably get away with it if you were a cowboy, or firefighter.” I don’t add that there’s probably a pretty good percentage of the clientele that would pretty happy to undress a real life Auror from their Auror robes. Harry specifically.

“So, Friday, around 9, wear something smart.” Ron nods at me to punctuate the end of his sentence.

I sigh. “May I suggest any other gay pub in the world?”

Ron smiles at me again. “I think we like this one.”

Harry mumbles something and stands up.

“Pleasure, Draco,” Ron says, also standing up.

“Was it?” I say. Ron laughs and they walk out.

“Ugh,” I say as I slam the cherry jar against the bar.

After the door closes behind them, Cassius leans against the bar facing me. “So I understand now,” he says.

“You understand nothing,” I growl at him.

“If those Aurors arrest you, you’ll have to wait until we close for me to come bail you out,” he says mildly. “Bear that in mind as you do your best to annoy them.”

“They annoy me!” I shout at Cassius but he shakes his head at me and goes back to working on his inventory.

  
***

 

Friday comes around and I’m hoping Harry and Ron don’t come back. We hit a busy patch early on, and I’ve almost forgotten about them, until I look up and watch them walk in, standing out like hippogriffs in a field of unicorns. They’ve managed to lose the Auror uniforms, but they’re still dressed straight, painfully straight: they’re wearing baggy jumpers and trousers that must be five years old. And Harry is wearing ratty trainers! To a gay pub!

In a repeat of few nights ago, Ron easily takes a seat and Harry is behind him. I’m still not sure why they’re here.

“Cocksuckers Special, please,” Ron says.

“We’re all out,” I snap. I start throwing together two Tom Collins, and slam them down on the bar. “Two Backdoor Lovers.” Ron laughs. He takes a sip of his drink, and Harry starts gulping his. I make him a second one with half as much gin and leave it on the counter. The next person down the line wants six Baby Guinness shots and I work on those, and then continue on and help the next few people. There’s a lull and I turn my attention back to The Terrible Duo. Harry has finished his second drink and Ron is less than half done with his first. I make another Tom Collins but with only a splash of gin and put it in front of Harry. 

I run a quick spell to disinfect the bar.

“Hey, Draco,” Ron calls. I nod at him. He leans across the bar, pretty close in to me, and whispers “Is that guy cute?” He points behind him at a ginger twink sitting at one of the tables.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” I tell him. I wouldn’t fuck him, but he’s a regular and has no problem finding guys to take home.

“But you’re gay, right?” he asks.

You think after five years, you’re done coming out, but, no, it seems like even if you’re working as a barman in a gay pub, you’re never done. “Of course,” I say in my most condescending tone. It’s very condescending.

Ron punches Harry in the arm. “I told ya.” Harry’s third drink is gone. I make him a tonic water with a twist. I don’t know what Harry’s doing here, but I don’t think he actually wants to get wasted.

I mean, if he he vomits, I’m the one that has to Vanish it and I don’t need that today.

“Do you want to tell me what this is all about?” I say. “Or is this all a plan to drive me completely insane? It’s working.”

Ron is beaming at me again. I’ve seen him smile more times in the past week than in seven, well, six years of school together. “Harry here is gay and we’re here for him to be with his people.” He gestures widely at the bar.

I feel a wave of surprise hit and pool in my stomach; oh, god, how could I have missed it. And, shit, Ron is a pretty great friend. Few straight men would be so relaxed in a gay pub.

“It took me a month to get him in here, and I say in another month he might be able to ask someone out.” Ron claps Harry on the back; Harry looks nauseated.

“Ok, step one,” I say to Ron, “you must leave. Your straight mojo is keeping him down.”

“I am here to help,” Ron says.

“You’ve done your job,” I say. “It’s like you’re a beater. Your job is not to get the Quaffle through the hoop, your job is to keep the bludgers from hitting your teammates. Your job was to get Harry into the pub, now it’s up to him to catch the snitch.”

“I’m a keeper,” Ron says.

“It’s a metaphor,” I say. “Not a particularly well-thought out one.”

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Harry announces.

“Sit your arse down,” I say to Harry. “Ron here is going to head home. You’re going to sit here and drink some drinks and let cute men chat you up.”

“Great plan,” Ron says. “Can you make sure he doesn’t drink and Apparate? Thanks, Draco.” He doesn’t wait for a reply and waves as he heads towards the door. I think Harry is going to follow him, but he eventually sits back down and starts playing with his straw.

“Another?” I ask.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he says.

“You’ve been drinking mainly lemon water so far,” I tell him. “You ready for a proper drink?”

He nods. “I liked the one you made Tuesday,” he says.

“Piña colada,” I tell him. “The pineapple will make your jizz taste better."

“Oh, god, I am not ready for any of this,” he says, half to me, half to the bar.

“You came out a month ago?” I ask, and start assembling ingredients.

“I didn’t really come out ... Ron just guessed good.”

“It does get easier,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Imagine me, Draco Malfoy, giving life advice to Harry Potter. I use a spell to blend the ingredients together, and skip the cock straw this time.

“I just don't want to read about my love life in the paper. Again." I put the drink in front of him and he takes a sip.

"There's wards," I say. "You're safe here." I point over to a dark corner. "If you really need privacy, so many people have used Disillusionment charms on that back table that only Cassius and I can see it without stumbling over it." 

Harry looks in the direction my finger is pointing and says, "Thanks."

“Drink your drink and try and make eye contact with someone, ok?” I say, heading down the bar to get some other drinks made, for people I’m actually charging.

I can’t stop looking over at him. He’s mostly looking at his drink, until a cute white boy with a terrible asymmetrical haircut sits beside him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see Harry’s face and he’s smiling a bit. It’s a good start. I make change for a round of Cosmos and when I look back, Harry’s face has completely changed; he’s closed off and looks … constipated. I can guess what’s happened.

“You need a drink?” I hurry over and interrupt Asymmetrical.

“Oh, I’m just talking to Harry Potter,” he says. “The Harry Potter.”

Yes, as I guessed. “Harry gets hero-worshipped all day at the Ministry,” I say. “He doesn’t need to you fawn all over him when he’s not at work, move along.”

Asymmetrical jumps off his chair. “Floo me,” he says to Harry. As if.

Harry looks miserable. “I’m going to go,” he says.

I nod. “Come back tomorrow,” I say. “And wear a goddamn glamour.” His mouth forms a little _oh_ shape, although no sound comes out. He takes another sip of his drink before turning and walking out. Halfway to the door, he gives me a slight wave and I wave back before I remember to pretend to be busy doing something besides watching him.

 

***

 

Harry’s back the next night. If I didn’t recognise him from his nervousness or disheveled hair or those glasses, I’d recognise his terrible clothes, but he is glamoured enough that people aren’t going to recognise him instantly.

“You made it, and without the Weasel,” I say. He shrugs. I make him a Pineapple Sunset: pineapple, vodka and grenadine. I put it in front of him and he takes a sip.

“Pineapple again?” he says.

“Your future fellatio partner will thank me.” He tries to smile and doesn’t cringe, it’s an accomplishment for him. Or he might not know what fellatio means.

The latter, definitely.

“What am I doing here?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” I say. “Are you looking to hookup? Are you looking for a boyfriend? Do you just want to get drunk with your favorite barman?”

“I guess so.”

“Keep drinking, and smile back when someone checks out your arse.”

“That might be the best advice I get all night.”

“All year,” I tell him. I have people to serve, so I do that. I'm also keeping track of the goings on of the Disillusioned table, and it's thankfully tame tonight.

I keep an eye on Harry, of course, and with the glamour, he’s a bit braver. Smiling and talking to men. He’s got charisma by the boatload, it doesn’t take much for them to try and take it to the next level, a hand on the leg here, a whisper to the ear there. But he’s not feeling it and always politely has them stop, drawing back or gently moving a hand from where they’ve put it on him.

I check in later, and he looks exhausted.

It’s Sunday tomorrow and I’ve the day off, and a terrible idea. “We should go shopping tomorrow,” I tell him.

“I don’t like shopping,” he says.

“Clearly,” I say. “I’ll meet you at yours tomorrow, say, noon?”

“Mine?”

“I need to see what I’m working with.” And I want to see his place, I’m curious.

“It’s under a Fidelius.” He pauses. “Meet me at Wrenhaven. It’s in the Floo Network.” He Apparates without a further word.

 

***

 

At exactly 12:14 the next day, I floo to Wrenhaven. I stumble out into a small sitting room, and the smell of something sweet, maybe chocolate chip cookies. “Hello?” I call.

Hermione Granger comes in, quill in hand. “Draco Malfoy?”

“Harry told me to meet him here. Harry Potter,” I say stupidly. Hermione knows who Harry is. “He said there’s a Fidelius, and we’re going shopping.”

She is more confused than I am, and I’m quite confused. “Ron,” she calls. “Do you know anything about Draco Malfoy. And shopping?”

Ron comes in wearing another terrible jumper. “Draco, mate, glad to see you.” He sticks out his hand and I shake it. “Harry’s always late, we’ll just go ahead and add you to the Fidelius.”

“I’m not letting Draco Malfoy into Harry’s house,” Hermione says as if I’m not standing there. I don’t blame her. Also it seems like Hermione might not know about Harry’s updated love life, if I haven’t come up in conversation.

“I really just want to collect Harry and be on our way,” I say. How can I make this seem like a straight thing? “We need to be done in time to drink cheap beer and yell at the Quidditch match.” Good one, Malfoy.

“Tea?” Ron asks.

Why not. “Sure,” I say. “Sugar if you’ve got it.”

I follow Ron into the kitchen. There's a giant table, half-covered with reports and articles, Hermione’s I’m guessing.

“Did Harry make it in last night?” Ron asks.

“He did,” I reply.

“Make it where?” Hermione asks. We all sit and Hermione starts putting the papers into stacks.

“The pub where Draco works,” Ron says pouring tea from the tea pot. I’m pretty sure my initial guess was right, Hermione doesn’t know Harry’s gay. She’d know if Ron said the Auriga Arms as we’re notorious in that way.

“I’m glad he’s finally leaving his house,” Hermione says. “What are you doing working as a barman?”

“‘Death Eater’ wasn’t the great addition to my CV that I thought it was going to be,” I say, and Ron puts a tea cup in front of me. I take a sip and it’s not terrible.

“Ah,” she says, nodding as Ron tops off her tea. 

I ask about her papers and she manages to tell me a bit of the experimental magic she's looking into without giving away how it relates to her job. 

I hear a slight whoosh from the sitting room, and Harry’s voice. “Hey, guys, I wanted to let you know that I --” he says, stopping when he sees me sitting at the table. “Oh, I see Draco already made it here.”

“I did,” I say. It’s been strange sitting here talking to Ron and Hermione, but not _that_ terrible.

“Well, let’s do this,” he says.

“Do what?” Hermione says pointedly.

“I want Draco to be able to find my house.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Hermione says. She looks at me. “No offense.”

“It’s fine,” Ron says. “Harry’s magic is probably ten times more powerful than Draco’s, he only needs to worry that Draco could piddle on the carpet.”

“I’m not going to piddle on the carpet!” I say back.

“See, he says he’s not even going to piddle on the carpet,” Ron says. I debate if I could get away with a small stinging hex aimed right at Ron's face.

“Let the record show I am doing this under duress,” Hermione says. She picks up her wand and makes a series of intricate moves. “Draco Lucius Malfoy” - I can feel a bit of magic tingle on the top of my head - “you can now find Talos Terrace.” She makes a few more flicks and the magic flares for a moment, then fades away.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry says, giving her a hug.

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.” I look to Harry. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” he says. I shake Ron’s hand again and follow Harry to the sitting room. He grabs a pinch of floo powder, says "Talos Terrace" and whooshes away. I follow.

I come through the floo into another sitting room. This one is stale, for lack of a better word. Dusty, dreary, stale. And it definitely doesn’t smell like cookies. I look around and it seems half empty, and closer inspection shows that it is exactly that. I can see where pieces of furniture have been taken away, the imprints still in the carpet.

“Did the Weasley fiancée move out and take her half of the stuff and you never bothered to redecorate?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I haven’t had time.”

“Too much time spent moping?” I say.

“I have … a job,” he says.

I _hmmmm_ at him. “Are you ready to begin?”

“I guess so.”

“Ok, I’ll need to see your wardrobe, your bed, and your sex toy drawer," I say listing them on my fingers.

“The first two are in my bedroom, the third doesn’t exist.”

“Ok, it doesn’t have to be a drawer, just show me where your sex toys are.”

Harry is glaring over my shoulder. “I don’t have any.”

I cock my head at him. “Harry, have you played with your arse yet?”

If dark skin could show a blush, I’m sure he would be, ha! “I haven’t, er, done that.”

“Why not?”

He playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s weird.”

“It might be weird, but it’s mostly fun.”

“I believe you.”

“So I take it that you’ve not had sex with a man.”

“No.”

“Have you kissed a man?”

“No.”

“Have you fantasised about a man?”

“Er, yes.”

“Who?”

“Just, you know, men.” He has his fingers completely twisted in his t-shirt.

“Have you fantasised about Victor Krum?”

“Ok, yes.” Who hasn’t, honestly.

“Oliver Wood?” An educated guess on my part.

“Fine, yes, why are you asking me these things?”

I sigh dramatically for emphasis. “I want you to get used to talking about these sorts of things. Someday soon, you’re going to need to be able to say ‘Hey, cute man I met at the Auriga Arms, I’d like you to rim me until I come and then I’d like to fuck you and I’ll only do it with a condom on.’”

“Merlin, I don’t think I could ever --”

“You can, and you will,” I say cutting him off with a wave of my hand. “Lead me to your wardrobe.”

Harry takes me down a hallway and up some stairs. His bedroom is full of basic, functional furniture. Half of his clothes are in the wardrobe and half are in piles on the floor. I get my wand out and start casting every cleaning charm I know. I see his terrible trousers from the night before and start a new pile, the _Harry Should Never Wear This Again_ pile.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Making a burn pile,” I tell him.

“Those are good clothes! I can still wear them!” He picks up last night’s trousers. “They don’t even have holes.”

“What if this was the _sartorial emergency_  pile?”

“I can wear them around the house.” Oh, he wants to bargain? I am the king of bargaining.

“Around the house, but that doesn’t include Weasley and Granger’s house. And it doesn’t include if you’ve an overnight visitor.”

“Like when Ron stays over after pub nights? He doesn’t care what I wear.”

“Obviously,” I say. “I’m actually referring to when you invite men with giant dicks over for sex.”

“Here? I have a Fidelius.”

I stare into space. I’ve never met a man attempting to sabotage his non-existent sex life so much. “We’ll work on that later,” I say. I continue to go through piles. I throw a shirt at him. “Try this on for me.”

He obediently turns and starts towards the door that I assume leads to the toilet. “Potter,” I say. “Change your shirt out here.”

“Ok,” he says and takes off his terrible t-shirt. I stare, of course I do. He looks good, even the scars he has. From being an Auror or the War or whatever happened in his terrible Muggle life, they make him look distinguished. He notices me staring and starts fumbling at his buttons. This would be cuter on a teenager than a 23-year-old. He gets his shirt buttoned and as I suspected, it’s way too small in the shoulders.

“Off,” I say. “It goes in that pile,” pointing at the pile growing rapidly by the door.

“I’ve only worn it a few times,” he protests.

“Try casting in it. Try Expelliarmus, even.” My wand is yanked from my hand and sails cleanly to where he’s holding his hand out. Harry’s wand is laying on his nightstand. I’ve seen a few wandless Accios for objects a few inches away, but I’ve not seen wandless magic like this. 

“Show off,” I mutter. “So you never need your wand as an Auror?”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Fine,” he says. He balls up the shirt and throws it forcefully at the pile like a spoiled brat. I should know, I was the biggest spoiled brat of them all, and still have the occasional relapse.

A flash of inspiration. “What if we took your nicest stuff and donated it to Hogwarts for the students that come from, er, modest means? It’s a lot easier to transfigure clothes that start off with quality than the cheap stuff.”

“I could buy them new things,” he said brightly. Of course Saint Potter would be happier to buy poor kids new stuff than buy clothes for himself. “But I don’t want to embarrass them. How would we know who needs it?”

Did Harry think the whole school didn’t know that he was obviously very poor? Well, I hadn’t figured it out because what did I know about Muggles, but the school talked. Everyone knew. “We’ll have the heads of houses discreetly inquire,” I say. Harry looks pleased.

“I’ll ask Minerva about it the next time I see her,” he says. Minerva McGonagall. Of course he’s on a first name basis with Professor McGonagall.

“Great,” I say and I quickly divide up the shirts that are going to be too small across his shoulders. I have him try on a few things and it’s not hopeless. I suspect his friends have been giving him clothing as gifts, either because they’re embarrassed for him or more likely, he’s hard to shop for and they’re taking a stab in the dark. In the end, we have his Auror robes, his dress robes and some shirts. Socks and boxers, too, basic, but newish. I do banish every sock with a hole in it, and it’s tremendous fun. Although if he want to go to a pants party, he’ll definitely need new pants for that.

I don’t think he’s ready for pants parties.

“Ok,” I say. “We’re going to buy trousers, shoes and a couple of date-worthy shirts. Oh, and a few lamps, do you just use Lumos all night?” He’s smiling at me, I’m glad he likes me bitchy because that’s pretty much the only way you’ll get me. “And do you have money or do we need to start at Gringotts?”

“I have money,” he says starts searching through his desk, pushing aside piles of papers.

“New rule,” I say. “Bedroom is for sleeping and sex only. Where do you want an office?” He stares at me. “Do you have an extra room somewhere?”

“Maybe the library?” he says and head out the door. I place a temporary holding spell on the desk and follow him out his bedroom, down the hall, and into a dimly lit room full of bookcases and sitting chairs. I glance at the shelf closest to me and it's Arthimancy and biographies. 

“Granger organise this for you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “She used a charm she learned from Madame Pince.”

“Ah,” I say, trying not to show I’m impressed. I finish the other half of the spell and the desk materialises against a wall. Harry looks surprised and fascinated at the spell so I’m not going to mention I realise that I’ve forgotten to bring the chair with it.

He finds a large bag of Galleons in his newly-relocated desk and we’re ready. I tell him the name of the third best clothing shop in Diagon Alley, and we floo there from the sitting room.

The store is mostly empty, and Mithras, our salesperson, is thankfully gay, and we quickly put together a pile of clothing for Harry to try on. Harry stops insisting that things aren’t fitting right after we ignore him the first dozen times. I pick out a few shirts and trousers, and a soft jumper in green. He looks like a model in the more formal stuff, but also decidedly un-Harry-like and even more awkward than usual, so I keep his purchases casual for the most part. He pays quietly even though I’m sure he’s mentally figuring out how many orphan dinners the money could have provided.

Next door is shoes, I pick out a black pair and a brown pair, I’m sure we’ll have to discuss when it’s appropriate to use each color.

I’m making quick decisions for him and he’s letting me, so it’s less than an hour later and we’re done with clothes. “Do you want to keep going, or stop for tea?” I ask. I shrink his purchases and he puts them in his jacket pocket.

“I’m ok if you are,” he says. “What’s next?”

“The fun one!” I say. “Sex shop, and we’re going Muggle.” The best place in Wizard Britain for sex toys is, unfortunately, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and we both have good reasons to skip that shop.

Siddharth, one of my regulars at the Auriga Arms, had told me of a new sex toy shop walking distance from Diagon Alley, so I lead the way. We both pocket our wands and step into Muggle London; they could really do with a few air purifying charms, the smog seems especially thick today.

The shop is where Siddharth had mentioned and I open the door for Harry. He takes a few steps in and comes to a complete standstill, looking around. He’s overwhelmed and I haven’t even taken him to the back room of the shop, the part with the really fun stuff, the fetish gear and sex swings and whatnot.

A salesperson - her name tag says Em - asks if we’re looking for anything in particular. She’s wearing a cockring on a necklace; I like her.

“My friend is new to all of this, so I want to get him some stuff to play with,” I say. Harry is still stopped in the same place, mouth slightly agape. She glances at him, still wearing his old clothes. I should have made him change before coming in here. “He’s recently out,” I tell her.

“Gay or straight, any man can love a bit of arse play, right?” she says. She turns to Harry. “Vibrators are a pretty popular first toy. Maybe a dildo? We also have lots of lubes.”

“I have no idea,” Harry says. He looks at me.

“Can you show us to the vibrators?” I ask, and she leads us to a large display rack and then leaves us alone. I find a relatively small, curved one that promises “amazing prostate stimulation.” I hold it out to him and see him mouth _prostate stimulation_ to himself. “You’re going to love it,” I tell him. I find a small set of butt plugs and grab them. From the side of the shop, I see one of those Muggle videos playing. “Do you have a way to watch those?” I ask him pointing.

“Yeah, I have a dvd player,” he says. I walk over and stare at the many videos on offer. Most of the boxes show two white men, and the ones that feature a black man are in the section called “interracial.” I don’t see any with a skinny white man with a very nicely muscled half-Indian one, not that I’m looking. I pick out one that shows two cute white guys kissing on a couch. It doesn’t list anything too kinky on the front of the box.

I lay the vibrator, butt plugs and dvd next to Em’s crossword puzzle. “That was fast,” she says with a smile.

“He might explode if he’s here too long,” I say. “We’ll be back someday soon.”

“We suggest water-based lube for silicone toys and silicone lube for anal sex,” she says to the both of us, although it’s for Harry’s benefit. “Both work with condoms. I like that one and that one,” she says pointing to the shelves. I grab the two she points at, and then grab a sample kit of flavoured lubes, and add it to our pile.

“Condoms?” I ask.

There’s a rack with dildos over the different sizes. Harry looks closely at the dildos without touching, and takes a pack of extra-large. Of course. He adds it to the pile, Em rings us up, and Harry pays. I’m glad he thought to bring Muggle money. She puts his stuff in an inconspicuous black bag and we head out.

“Um, thanks,” Harry says as we’re walking down the pavement back to Diagon Alley.

“No problem,” I say. I feel like I need to explain, as I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “When I was recently out, I had Cassius around to help me,” I say. “It’s nice to have a guide.” Harry nods. Cassius was good at listening to me talk about stuff, and left boxes of condoms in the back room. He didn’t go sex toy shopping with me or anything, but Harry clearly needs help with this stuff. I tap the wall with my wand that gets us back into Diagon Alley, and we use the floo at the first store we come to, some sort of a rare beast pet shop.

We’re back in his sitting room, and I tell him I’m going to unshrink his packages and put everything away. I also want to get his clothing to be discarded out of his bedroom so he’s not tempted to wear it one last time.

He follows me to his bedroom and instead of helping collapses backwards on his bed. “How are you feeling?” I ask him as I start putting clothes on hangers.

“Overwhelmed,” he says. He’s brought the black bag with him, and I want to try to remember to clear out a drawer on his nightstand for his new sex toys. “I think I’m rushing into stuff, I haven’t even kissed a man and I’ve already got sex things.”

I crawl across the bed and look down at him from my hands and knees. “You were practically married and now you’re worried about kissing?” I ask.

“It’s different!” he protests looking up at me. “I don’t know what I’m doing with men.”

I let my head fall forward and murmur “show me what you got” at him. My lips press against his and his hands come up to the side of my face before he kisses back. I’ve mostly have his bottom lip, but I feel his tongue dart out, so I adjust a bit so we’re kissing tongue to tongue. I pull back and he bites my lower lip gently before letting me go. I look down and his eyes are closed and he’s smiling.

“Wow,” he says. I like having this effect on men.

“There, you’ve now successfully kissed a man, go forth and be gay,” I say, hoping for more levity than I feel.

“Maybe I am gay,” he says. He opens his eyes to stare at my lips. “I thought maybe I just wasn’t anything, but I’m pretty sure I’m gay. That was way better than with Ginny.”

I laugh. “Glad I could clear things up.” He pulls my face back down for more kisses and after a few moments, I collapse to the side of him and we’re kissing face-to-face on our sides. I want to keep going, but it’s a terrible idea. I pull back. I should go home but I don’t want Harry to think I’m gay-rejecting him.

“I’m starving,” I tell him. “Tea?”

He’s breathless. “Yeah, ok,” he says. He shoves himself up to sitting, but not before I can see his cock had taken an interest in our making out. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

 

***

 

After tea, I tell him that I have things to get done at home. I don’t work tomorrow either, and I can’t think of an excuse to see him. I don’t _need_ to see see him or anything, but I have had a surprisingly good time hanging out with him.

“Will I see you Tuesday?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m off work at five.”

“Will you try out at least one of the things we bought today?” I say.

“I have to,” he says. “Otherwise I won’t have any trousers to wear because you got rid of all of mine.”

“Ok, one of the things from the sex shop?” I say. I am a saint and do not point out how terrible all of his trousers were.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug.

“I’m going to ask you about it Tuesday,” I say as walk into the sitting room to floo back home. “Owl me if you need me,” I say over my shoulder and then floo to my flat.

 

***

 

The next day, Monday, I waste puttering around the house. After dinner, I hear an owl at my window and I let it in. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but it’s signed HP. “It’s not working, please help,” the note says. That could mean any of a hundred things, but I have a feeling I know what’s not working. I give the owl a treat and floo to Harry’s. He’s waiting for me on the couch, or maybe he enjoys sitting in his dusty, unused sitting room. He’s wearing a v-neck t-shirt over the slim cut jeans we bought together and he looks really good. I realise he doesn’t have any pajamas; we’ll have to get some on the next shopping trip. Maybe he sleeps naked? There's a thought for later.

“Hi,” he says softly. “Thanks for coming.”

“It was my day off,” I say. I sit next to him on the couch. “You want to tell me what’s not working.”

“I couldn’t get the … thing … to fit,” he says. “I tried pushing it, but it hurt.”

“Were you using the lube?” I ask. He nods.

“And you were starting with the smallest butt plug, not the vibrator?” He nods again. “Ok, you’re just nervous and need to relax then,” I say. “Have a wank first and then we’ll try again.”

He sits there like a bump on a log. “Let’s put on that video from the shop and you’ll rub at your cock until you ejaculate.” I say. I remember from Muggle Studies that you have to have a telly to watch videos. “Where’s your telly?” I ask.

“I watch stuff on my laptop,” he says. The word is familiar but I can’t place it. “It’s a computer?” he tries to explain. “Let me get it from my desk.” We walk upstairs past his bedroom and he disappears into the library and emerges a few seconds later with a rectangular box. A tiny portable telly! Muggles do not get enough credit.

“Does that work in your bedroom?” I ask.

“Yeah?” he says smiling. 

“Would you be more relaxed in your bed?”

He nods, and still holding the laptop heads towards his bedroom, and I follow. We both sit on the side of the bed and he opens the plastic of the dvd and inserts in into the laptop. “Don’t use any magic while this is on,” he says. “The circuits are fragile.”

He pushes a few buttons and the video starts playing. It starts with a blonde twink opening the door to a muscled brunette. “I’m sorry I don’t have money for the pizza,” blonde says. “Is there anything I can do instead?”

“I don’t normally do this,” brunette says, “but just this once I have an idea.” He shuts the door and they start kissing on screen. I’m not sold that either one cares about the pizza, but I suppose that’s not the point. Harry lays down with the laptop in the middle of the bed, and I climb around to the other side so I can watch, too. When will wizards invent something as good as videos of men fucking each other?

They kiss for awhile on screen, and I can see Harry’s trousers starting to tent. “You gonna do something about that?” I ask him, pointing my chin at his crotch.

“Here?” he asks.

“We’ll wank together,” I tell him. This is a terrible idea. I stand up to take my shoes, trousers and pants off. After I’m mostly naked, he shimmies out of his pants and trousers and makes a last second decision to take his shirt off and gives it an easy toss onto the chair. He keeps his glasses on. He lays back down and he’s not all the way hard yet, but I can tell that extra-large condoms were not him being overly generous. Bastard. I lay back down and give myself a few strokes to get warmed up. Harry watches me although he’s not staring at my cock or anything.

I’m on the side of the bed with the nightstand where I stashed his sex toys. I grab one of the lubes and twist off the cap. “Hold out your hand,” I order. He holds his hand out as the blond drops to his knees in front of the brunette. I drizzle some lube into Harry’s hand. “Try with this.” He slides his hand up and down his shaft a few times.

“Oh,” he breathes out and we don’t speak again as we go back to watching the video.

The blond twink is on his knees deepthroating brunette. The brunette is really facefucking blond twink and I see Harry’s hand going faster and faster. Right as the brunette comes on the blond twink's open mouth and face, Harry comes with a groan. I’ve been more watching Harry’s face than the video and his groan is what does me in, and I come all over my shirt.

“Wow,” Harry says, panting. I agree. I usually do a quick cleansing charm, but whatever circuits are means we can’t. Honestly, though, muggle porn is worth it.

“Stay put,” I tell him and search out a towel in the toilet. I come back and wipe up the come as much as I can. I don’t want him to overthink the next part, so I don’t say anything as I sit in the center of the bed facing him. He's stopped the video; the screen has stopped on a close-up of a dick. I show him the lube we’ve already used and put a bit on my pointer finger; the butt plugs are still in the drawer. “Open your legs,” I say touching his thigh. He opens them a bit, just wide enough that I can slip a hand down between his legs, and I start rubbing the lube on his taint and around his arsehole. He starts to get antsy and moves his arms around like he can’t get comfortable. “Just lay there and enjoy,” I tell him. “Tell me what you want more of and what you don’t like as much.”

“Um, that all feels good,” he says. 

“Good,” I tell him as I play with his balls a bit. “Nothing is going to hurt, so just concentrate on how nice it feels.”

“Ok,” he says.

I’m just using one finger to gently move lube around. I start to move in closer to his hole, and he squirms. “Harry?” I ask.

“Tickles,” he says.

I press a bit firmer. “How’s that?” I ask.

“Better.” He’s slowly opening his legs and I have better access. I add more lube, and I make contact with his hole. His cock twitches to life.

“You like that,” I tell him.

“Yeah,” he says. I play with the outside of his hole, the move back out. I add more lube, and now I’m using two fingers. “Yeah,” he says again. “Feels good.”

“Deep breath,” I say. He breaths in. “Slowly let it out,” I tell him and he does. I’ve got my pointer finger lightly pressed against his hole, but nothing happens. “Good,” I tell him. I back off of his arse, and play with his balls some more and lightly scratching his thighs, having him breathe a few times for me. I work my way back in, and have him breath again, and this time with the lightest of pressure, my pointer finger is in his arsehole to the first knuckle, and Harry’s slammed his legs shut around my hand.

“Oh my god,” he says staring at the ceiling. I keep my hand still.

“How’s that?” I ask.

“Intense,” he says.

“Intense in a good way or intense in a bad way?” I ask.

“Good, so good,” he says. I have him breathe and tap his thigh to remind him to open them. I haven’t moved my finger since getting it in, and I now slowly rotate it a quarter turn.

“What do you have in me?” he asks breathlessly.

“Just a finger,” I tell him. “You’re doing great.” His cock is almost hard again. “Do you want to try and come again with my finger in you?” He doesn’t say anything but starts running his hand up and down his shaft. I use my free hand to drizzle lube all over his hand and cock, it’s messy.

“I’m going to move my finger just a little,” I tell him. “Tell me to stop if you don’t like it or don’t know if you like it.”

“No, it feels good,” he says. I move my finger in and out just a little. “More,” he says moving his hand faster. He moves his knees up so I have better access. I’m guessing I could easily get my finger in quite a bit farther, but I don’t. I keep moving it in and out, gently adding just an extra bit of pressure to the outside rim. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He comes again and after his hand stops moving on his cock, I gently pull my finger out, and wipe it on the towel. He doesn’t move and when I glance up at him, he has an arm across his face, glasses akimbo, eyes closed.

“Are you ok?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that was incredible.” I smile. “Was that really just the tip of your finger?” he asks. “It felt huge.”

I smile, men learning about their arses is rewarding work. “There’s a lot of nerve endings down there.”

My goal is still to get the smallest butt plug in him, as promised, but it’s time for a break. I lay on my side next to him and put my head on his shoulder. He’s light on chest hair, and I run my fingers through it. He smiles sleepily. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

I reach my face up and we make out for a bit. It’s a strange angle, so I eventually lay my head back down on his shoulder. I don’t fall asleep, but only just, and we drift in post-orgasm haze for a while. I don’t have a good sense of time, but after a while, I see his cock getting ready for more. I’m getting close to being ready for another round, too.

“How are you feeling? Are you done for the night or do you want to keep going?” I ask.

“I don’t know if I can get it up again,” he says.

“I can keep playing with your arse,” I say. “If you’re feeling relaxed, it’s a good time to do it.”

“I am so relaxed,” he says and flops an arm out to show me, and I laugh. I roll over to the drawer and take the smallest plug to the toilet and give it a good wash; I’m guessing Harry didn’t do that after playing with it earlier. I come back and he hasn’t moved. He does open his legs again, wider than before.

“I’m going to do the same stuff as before,” I tell him. “It’s not going to hurt.”

“Ok,” he says.

“And then if you’re feeling ready for it, we’ll try the small plug.”

“It didn’t fit before,” he says. He still has his face covered with his arm. Maybe this conversation is easier without eye-to-eye contact.

“You’re already partially stretched,” I say. “I’ll make sure with my finger before I put it in. You liked my finger.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees.

I sit and get more lube. “Same as before,” I tell him. “Let me know if you don’t like something.” I apply a bit of pressure at his hole and my finger is back in; his cock twitches slightly. I gently move my finger around, getting deeper and deeper, and occasionally out the side to get it ready for the buttplug that is a bit wider than my finger. He still doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “Hold the headboard,” I say and he does.

I keep gently twisting my finger in and out and I’ve done everything I can to get him ready. “I’m going to start playing with the plug,” I tell him. “I’m not going to put it in yet, we’re going to go slow.”

“Ok,” he says.

I have him lift his hips up so I can add a pillow underneath for a better angle.

“Do you want to start wanking?” I ask. “Nice and slow. Try not to come for a bit.”

He brings a hand down and starts sliding it up and down his cock. I add a ridiculous amount of lube to the plug and start running it around his rim, not applying enough pressure for it to enter him. Harry moans a bit, and I gently press it in a bit. It has a tapered front, a narrow middle piece and a wide part to make sure you can still get it out. It’s over half in with little resistance, and I gently thrust it, going deeper bit by bit.

“How you doing, Harry?” I ask.

“So good,” he mumbles.

I keep with the gentle thrusting until I easily slide it all the way in. Harry looks at me in surprise. “It’s in,” I tell him. “How are you?” His eyes are still glazed and he has a dopey grin on his face, yeah, he looks like he’s doing pretty great.

“It didn’t hurt,” he says.

“I promised,” I say.

“I feel so full,” he says, shifting his hips a bit.

“Ready to come?” I ask and he nods at me. “Hands back on the headboard,” I say and he does. I start sliding my hand up and down his cock, matching what he’d been doing for himself.

“God,” he breathes out.

I use my other hand to gently press at the butt plug and he moans. He’s watching my hand on his cock, and I’m watching his face. “Faster,” he requests and I oblige and he throws his head back and comes over my hand. I stroke him a few more times until he’s completely done and he squirms and then I take myself in hand and wank myself as hard and fast as I can. Five strokes, six strokes, done and I come all over my hand.

“Fuck,” Harry says and I realise that he watched me getting off on him getting off. Crap.

Anyway, we need to get that plug out. He’s still laying on the bed with his legs open, his cock is softening and he’s a mess from lube and semen. It’s a beautiful, beautiful sight.

“I’m going to take it out,” I say.

“Ok,” he says.

I give the plug a small twist and it moves easily, so I know there’s enough lube. He’s looking at me apprehensively. “Hands and knees,” I say and he gingerly rolls over and gets his arse up in the air for me.

“This won’t hurt,” I say. “Breathe deep and bear down.” I see his lungs fill and I gently pull the plug out, it comes easily. “All done,” I say and I lightly touch his hip and he lays down on his side. I lay down next to him and he throws and arm over me. I try to tell him that we need to clean up, but I think I’m asleep before the words are out.

 

***

 

I wake up at 5 a.m. and can’t extricate myself from his arm and leg without waking him. “Heading home,” I whisper. “Stop by tonight.”

He mumbles something that sounds affirmative, and I leave.

I head to his floo and am home as the sun is rising. I have a nap, some leftover soup, and am at work fifteen minutes early. Cassius is fixing a spout that’s been broken since Saturday night’s rush.

Cassius glances at me and then back at his work. “Someone got some.”

“I didn’t, exactly,” I tell him.

“Exactly?”

“We messed around a little, but his gay virginity is safe with me.”

“You’re splitting hairs,” he says.

“I’m not the one that asked for help,” I say. “He owled _me_.”

“Have you told him that you’re in love with him?” Cassius asks.

“I’m not in love with him,” I say, heart pounding. “I knew him when we were kids. And now we’re friends. Sort of friends.”

“And you often help your _sort of friends_ with their sex problems?”

“You know the saviour of the wizarding world is an idiot, right?” I say. “Besides Ron, that red-haired git - ”

“Everyone knows who Ron Weasley is,” Cassius interrupts. “Everyone.”

“Besides Ron,” I continue as if Cassius hadn’t said anything, “he made all of his friends doing dangerous things. I don’t think he has any idea how to have a proper relationship that doesn’t include nearly dying.”

“This is a complicated,” Cassius says, "and you should try thinking the head that's above you shoulders."

“Thank you,” I say. “But everything is fine.”

We get the pub ready to open, and I restock the bar area.

Harry is our first customer and arrives in his Auror robes. “I’m still technically working,” he says, “but I have a couple hours before I need to be at a stakeout.”

I pass him a water.

“You should tell Hermione,” I tell him.

“About the stakeout? She knows, she’s the one that authorised it.” He looks adorably confused.

I shoot him a glare. “About your preferences for men.”

“I will. Someday,” he says, fidgeting with a napkin.

“She’ll be fine with it,” I say.

He scrunches his nose but doesn’t say anything. “What kind of a stakeout?” I change the subject.

“Normal kind.” He shrugs. “Suspected dark wizard has been buying illegal ingredients stakeout. We’re covering the places he’s been known to show to see if we can catch him in the act.”

I open the till and shuffle around the papers in the back until I find what I’m looking for, a small button. “Robe off,” I tell him, and keep hunting until I find a pair of scissors. I walk around the bar and sit on the stool next to him, grabbing the bottom of his shirt - one of the ones we bought over the weekend - and pull it out from his trousers. I snip the button off that’s closest to his belly button, and transfigure a straw and some napkins into needle and thread. I carefully sew the button from the till on in the same place, and throw on a quick charm to make it match the others on the shirt.

Harry lets me do all of this without a word, one eyebrow up in questioning silence. I start to retuck his shirt in, but he hops up to do it himself.

“Portkey,” I tell him as he's fixing his clothes. “Cassius developed it back when gay men kept finding themselves getting booked for long stays in Azkaban for being gay. Nowadays he’s gives them to male sex workers in case a john is getting violent. It uses a different spell than the portkeys from the Ministry, so it’ll be untraceable to them.”

“Where will I end up?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Cassius will find you.”

“Why would he help me?” Harry asks.

“Besides saving us all from You-Know-Who?” I ask sarcastically. “Now that you’re gay, you’re part of the gay family.”

He smiles shyly from under his hair. “Thank you,” he says. He kisses me on the cheek and heads out.

“Stop by here or my place after you’re finished tonight,” I call out somewhat desperately.

“I will,” he says walking out the door backwards.

I turn to head back behind the bar and find Cassius looking at me. “Sort of friends?” he says flatly.

“Sort of friends,” I repeat.

 

***

 

Harry doesn’t show up at the pub that night and as we close up Cassius assures me that he’s fine, stakeouts are always time intensive and rarely dangerous. I sit at my house for a while until I admit to myself that I’m not going to be able to sleep. I floo to Harry’s and fall asleep on the dusty sofa in front of his floo.

A gentle hand on my shoulder wakes me when it’s still dark. I’m not awake enough to remember where I am, but I see Harry’s face and the part of me that was worried is instantly lighter.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” he aks, not asking why I’m there.

“Yeah,” I say. “Did everything go ok tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It was long and boring and nothing happened.”

“Good,” I say and Harry helps me to my feet. We go into his room and lay down on top of the duvet, facing each other. There’s just enough light coming in from the window that I can make out his features. He reaches out and smooths my hair back. I smile at him. He reaches his hand out again and I catch it mid air and lace my fingers with his. I bring his hand to my mouth kiss his knuckles. He breathes in sharply. I bring his hand back to my mouth and close my lips around his pointer finger. I look at his face and he’s staring at me. He uses his wet finger to play with my lower lip and I put his finger in my mouth again, licking it from the base to the tip before sucking on it.

“Jesus,” he says.

“Can I -” I start.

“Anything,” he says.

“Can I suck your cock?” I finish.

“God. Yes.” he says. I reach over him to the drawer where I’ve stashed the condoms and root around until I find the box, and the flavored lube. He’s undoing his robe, and I crawl to the foot of the bed and start on his boots, tossing them one at a time behind me onto the ground. Socks next. He has his robe undone and pulls it out from under himself. I unbutton his shirt and when I get to the bottom, I undo his belt, snaking it out from his trouser loops and tossing it onto the floor next to where his boots and robe have landed. I unbutton and unzip his trousers, and drag his trousers and pants off, letting his cock spring free. I toss his trousers and pants onto the floor, too.

I stroke his cock a few times with my hand, making sure he’s hard enough for a condom. I put a couple drops of lube onto my finger and take a lick, it’s vaguely strawberry, like the packaging promised. I run the lube around the tip of his cock and pulling his foreskin back, roll the condom on. “God,” he says. “Feels so good.” I can hear him make a small groan.

“Lumos if you want to watch,” I say, and I lick just a little around the head. I normally like to show off and go straight to deep throating but I’m not sure I can deep-throat his cock, and I also think it might be overwhelming.

I’m overwhelmed.

I suck at the head of his cock and he presses up against my mouth. “Sorry,” he says.

I pull off for a moment. “It’s fine, I like it, don’t give me whiplash,” I say and if he wasn’t so tired I’d put it us in a position where he could really fuck my mouth.

I mostly use my mouth around the head of his cock and my hands on the shaft and balls. I run a lubed finger around his arsehole, but don’t push in. His moaning is getting louder and I use my tongue for all its worth and I feel the spurt from behind the condom and slow to a stop.

“Tomorrow,” he says, his arm over his face again. “Tomorrow morning I try that out on you.”

I gently take the condom off and Vanish it, and then cast a couple of cleaning spells before laying down under his arm.

 

***

 

Morning comes and we both oversleep. An owl at the window wakes Harry and I groggily see him reading a note.

“Kingsley covered for me, but I need to report to work in the next hour,” he says. He sits down heavily on the bed and runs his hands through his hair.

“You worked late,” I mumble into his pillow.

“I wasn’t strictly on a work assignment,” he says.

I sit up and look at him in the face. “What the fuck?” I say.

“The first part was a work thing, and then I decided to follow a hunch.” He shrugs.

“Don’t fucking do that!” I say. Harry is smiling at me. He gets up and starts tossing the clothes he’s going to put on onto the foot of his bed.

“Give me your shirt,” I say. “From last night,” I clarify. He picks up the shirt that I sewed the portkey button on. I cast every cleaning charm I can think of at it.

“You don’t leave this house without that button,” I tell him and throw the shirt at his face.

He rolls his eyes but puts the shirt on and starts buttoning it. “I want to do more stuff like last night,” he says, “But the other way.” He chews on his lip. “If that’s ok.”

“Only if you can say the word blowjob.”

“Jesus,” he says. He runs his hands through his already messy hair. “Blowjob.” He smiles at me shyly. He’s adorable like this. “I want to give you a blowjob,” he says enunciating every word, a dare at me.

Is there anything better than Harry Potter saying the word blowjob to me? I think not. I'm lost in my head thinking about Harry saying blowjob and I remember to respond. "Looking forward to it," I say. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you later, ok?” he says. I’m a tad disappointed I don’t get another kiss as he throws his Auror robes on and rushes out the door.

 

***

 

I head to work at my normal time. I’m going to avoid the Harry subject with Cassius and Cassius’s stupid looks. He doesn’t understand the long and complicated relationship we have, the way I’m a gay friend helping out a gay friend.

“Your boy make it home ok last night?” he asks first thing.

So much for that plan. “He did,” I say.

“Still technically a gay virgin?” he asks.

“Virginity is a social construct,” I say.

“Draco,” he says.

I glare and continue bar prep.

Ron stops by after five to say that Harry is at the Ministry and working late, but everyone’s going to meet here for their normal pub night, if that’s ok.

“Who’s _everyone_?” I ask.

“Me, Hermione, Neville and Hannah, probably,” he says. “One Hufflepuff for you to hang out with.”

“I am not a Hufflepuff,” I say. “I come from a long line of Slytherins!”

“Hey, Cassius,” Ron calls out to where Cassius reading the paper by the till. “Draco’s kind of a Hufflepuff, right?”

Cassius is laughing silently. “Tell me more,” he says.

“An old school acquaintance showed up at his place of employment and he took him shopping within a week. Sounds like a Hufflepuff.” Ron looks awfully smug.

“Did he tell you he gave Harry a portkey in case of emergencies?” Cassius, the traitor, says.

Ron is delighted. I want to punch him in his freckled face. “I could be biding my time, you don’t understand the scope of my plan!” I say. How dare Ron be like this.

Cassius is still laughing at me and he grabs the good whiskey from underneath the bar, the whiskey from his personal stash, and pours two shots. “On the house,” he says as he slides one shot over to Ron and lifts the other to make a toast.

Ron downs it easily and nods appreciatively.

“We’ll reserve a table for you tonight,” Cassius says and he and Ron shake hands.

I want to punch them both in the face.

 

***

 

Harry’s friends show up together and take over the table Cassius gave them in the back corner, the Disillusioned one. As everyone is settling in, moving coats around and sorting out chairs, Ron comes up to me to order.

“Five Pendragon beers, and five of those fruity shots you made that one time,” he says.

“I have made a lot of fruity shots in my time,” I say. “You’re going to have to narrow it down.” A few hours has done nothing but make me more annoyed at Ron. A Hufflepuff! How dare he.

Ron waves his hand. “Make them strong and fruity, whatever you come up with is fine. Hermione likes cherry if that helps.”

I glare at Ron and grab the most expensive tequila we carry. As I’m setting up shot glasses, Cassius moves the expensive tequila back to the shelf and sets a mid-range tequila in its place. He gives me a _stop being an arse_ look. I’ve gotten that look a lot recently thanks to Harry and his gang of idiot friends.

I glare at Cassius. I finish making Ron’s drinks and as I walk back with the beers in a simple carry spell, I hear Cassius saying, “and if any of your friends have a problem with Harry, they have a problem with me, and I’ll show them the door.”

“It’s not like that,” Ron says. “It’ll be fine once Harry uses his words.”

“Not like _what_?” I say butting in.

“Draco, not every conversation about Harry Potter has to involve you,” Cassius says mildly.

“It’s fine,” Ron says. He turns to me. “Harry’s ready to come out to us. I’ve had everyone working on their surprised and happy expressions all day.”

“You outed Harry?” I hiss. Cassius puts his arm on my shoulder.

“He basically outed himself in our fourth year with his crush on Viktor Krum. And then when he and Ginny split. And inviting everyone to a gay pub to make an announcement is a pretty clear indication of what's coming.” Ron is being nonchalant.

“Hermione didn’t know when I was at your flat.” I punch his order into the till and he hands me some galleons.

“I promised Harry that I wouldn't tell anyone that we were coming here,” Ron says. I hand him his change. “Cheers. We’ve all suspected for years, and we're all happy he's ready to tell us.” He grabs the shots and beers from my carry spell. 

I spend the next twenty minutes discreetly staring at their table, waiting for Harry to make his move. Harry comes up to buy the next round and I pretend that I’ve been cleaning the bar.

“They seem ok with this place,” Harry says, a slight head tilt to indicate his friends.

“Yeah?” I say. “They probably knew what they were in for when they came, you know?”

“Ron said this place is a well-know gay pub.” Times are dire when Ron is Harry’s expert on gay wizard culture.

“And has been for over thirty years,” I say. “So you’re going to tell them?”

“I think so,” Harry said. “It’s hard. They’re going to think that I’ve been lying to them.”

“I can tell they’re going to be accepting,” I say. “I’ll hex them myself if they’re not.” Harry could probably announce he was into BDSM centaur sex and they’d be supportive, Merlin.

He sighs and takes his drinks. I have not charged him, again.

I keep an eye on them and Harry isn’t making any announcements. Ron says, “What shall we drink to tonight?” and Harry says, “Friendship.”

Hannah asks if Harry was seeing anyone and he says he’s “too busy with work.”

Neville says that he loves everyone no matter what, and asks if Harry had anything to add. Harry says, “not really.”

Hermione says this pub had a long and interesting history going back to 1325 and Harry says nothing and let her go on for five minutes. I would have announced _anything_ to not hear about the Goblin War.

I saunter over to their table. I shrug my shoulders as a question to Ron. Ron shakes his head no. I point to myself. Ron gives me a thumbs up. I have brought two lemon shots and with a snap of my fingers I set them on fire.

“Today's special is free shots for the gays,” I say and pick one up. Harry sneaks a look at the group who are watching expectantly. He picks his up and we down them together. Everyone is beaming at him, and Hermione pulls him into a hug and Neville thumps him on the back a few times. It’s endearing. I give their happy yet surprised faces a 7 out of 10.

I leave them to their celebration and go back to man the bar. Cassius says he’s heading out back for a smoke break, and I nod to agree that I’m in charge until he’s back. It hasn’t been long when the door opens and a spell comes through and I’m hit with a Bodybind. I fall straight backwards onto the ground, spilling a rack of glassware with me.

I hear shouting as both Harry and Ron yell, “Aurors, freeze!” and someone send their Patronus.

It can’t be more than a few seconds later, and I see Harry’s worried face. Hermione has him grabbed by the collar. “He’s fine,” she says. “It’s just a Bodybind and we need to get the glass cleared up. Stay!” she tells him sternly.

I hear a _Levioso_ and feel myself being lifted and I can move my eyes just enough to see it’s Hannah doing the movement.

Hermione is in my eyeline. “We’re going to brush the glass off of you, and then undo the Bodybind,” she says. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

I blink once and I feel Hermione where she’s wrapped some of the bar towels around her hand and she’s swiftly moving down my body getting the glass off. When she gets to my feet, she starts moving me so I’m feet down and then she and Neville are propping me up. Hannah swishes her wand and does the counter-curse and I’m wobbly and fall back into Hermione and Neville’s arms.

“What the fucking fuck!” I say even as I’m trying to stay on my feet.

“We’re working on it,” Hermione says in what I’m sure she thinks of as her _responsible adult_ voice, but I recognise as her _answering questions in Potions_ voice.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?” Cassius says walking in from his smoke break. Even the Order of Merlin awardees are cowed by his tone.

“This man came in and put Draco in a bodybind,” Hermione answers. Cassius steps around the bar to see the man handcuffed in an uncomfortable position being guarded by Neville and Ron.

“I don’t recognise him,” he says at once. He looks to me and I shake my head.

“Luckily he had bad timing and didn’t see a table full of Aurors,” Neville says.

“Disillusioned table,” Cassius says, looking smug. He points over to where the table looks a bit like a wall in shadow. “If he had looked in, he wouldn’t have seen you.”

“I thought a bunch of poofs would be an easy target!” says man, and the wards on the Auriga Arms come into effect and his lips are stuck together.

“Now, now,” Cassius says grinning, “none of that in my pub.”

More Aurors arrive and I find myself being quizzed. I tell them that, no, I don’t know who the man is, and, no, I’m not involved with anything illegal. I think they want to take me in for further questioning, but Hermione and Ron and Harry and Neville are there and keep me from having to go give a statement down at the office. Cassius doesn’t like their line of questioning either and tells them to finish up or deal with his lawyer, so they do the sensible thing and finish.

I’m exhausted. The man has been carted off and most of the Aurors are gone. Cassius tells me to go home and rest and owl if I need anything.

Harry is doing Auror stuff, which looks to be mostly pacing with the occasionally few words with the higher ups. He sees me standing next to the counter and waves at his head Auror and comes over to me.

“Take me home and fuck me,” I say to him.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, swinging and arm around my shoulder and Apparating us to his bedroom. He keeps his arm around me, and I kiss him.

“Are you ok?” He runs his hands down my face. He’s being too touchy-feely. I don’t want to make love: I want to be fucked. Hard.  
  
I kiss him and then look at him, we’re almost eye to eye. “You can make it up to me by getting naked and sticking your cock in me.” I remember he’s not done this before. “If you want to.”

He smiles at me and looks coy, not bashful. “I do.”

“I will tell you exactly what I want you to do with your cock.” I sit on his bed and start untying my shoes. He watches me for a bit and once I stand to unbuckle my belt, he starts taking his clothes off, too, from the bottom to the top. We finish at the same time and he places his glasses on the nightstand before stepping in front of me.

“Are you going to be able to see what you’re doing without those ridiculous glasses?” I ask.

“Probably not,” he laughs. He looks at me and his eyes are green, green, green.

I Accio the lube and put it in his hand and throw my wand towards the nightstand. It misses by a mile and rolls halfway to the wardrobe. I don’t give a fuck.

I turn back to Harry. “You can’t even see my face,” I complain.

“Good thing you’re so mouthy,” he says. It sounds rather like a compliment.

I lay down on his side of the bed and bring my knees back as far as I can. “Finger me open,” I tell him.

He looks nervous, then determined. Fucking Gryffindors. He kneels in front of me and puts a lot of lube on his finger. I have taught him so well. He starts gently playing with my arsehole like I’m breakable or he’s the world’s biggest cocktease. He’s not pushing his finger in hard enough, he’s going to have to use some force, it’s an arsehole for Christ’s sake. “I’m not going to break,” I say.

He pushes hard enough that he gets a finger in and it feels very good and not nearly enough. He hesitantly and slowly pushes all the way in. He’s staring intently at me down there and if it didn’t feel so nice, I’d feel self-conscious.

“More,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?”

I glare at him, and he laughs.

“Ok, ok,” he says, and make a big production of adding more lube to his fingers and gently testing my arsehole.

I grab his hand and try and shove it into my arse, which doesn’t work.

“I’m going to prep myself,” I say.

“No, I want to,” Harry says and pushes my hand my to my stomach.

“I’m ready for your cock,” I say.

“No you’re not,” Harry says. He gestures to himself. He’s right, but he does get with my program and push two fingers into me. It feels divine and I’ve gone lax and am staring at the ceiling and enjoying how fucking fantastic it feels to have Harry’s fingers in me.

“Ok?” he ask.

“So good," I mumble. "More fingers.”

Harry’s smiling. “Barely able to speak, I like you like this.” He’s doing a good job of opening me up, and does add a third finger. It feels a little too good and I’m worried about coming and grab my cock at the base.

“Too much?” he asks and I shake my head no.

“Cock now, please,” I say.

He slides three fingers out and then two fingers in and moves them in such a way that I almost come. He looks smug. “Prostate. I read about it on the internet.”

I’m not ready for Harry Potter’s single-minded detirmination to be directed at me like this. I want to come with his cock up my arse. “Fuck me already,” I say.

He nods and looks around the bed. Ah, condom, good thinking Harry. 

He’s got lube all over his fingers. “I’ll do it,” I say, spotting the condom next to my hip. I carefully tear it open and Harry has crawled over next to me. He kneels next to me, his cock bobbing near my face. A bit of lube around his foreskin and I roll the condom on him. More lube to get him slicked up and we are finally ready to do this.

“We can do it this way, I know you have more experience with women,” I say looking up at him. I wiggle my hips at him.

“Ginny, er, liked to be on top?” he says. This is more than I ever needed to know about his straight sex life.

“So that’s better for you?” I ask.

“Yeah, start there,” he says. “If that’s ok?”

“Lay down,” I tell him and he lays next to me, almost in the center of the bed. I need his cock up my arse like yesterday. I roll over and throw a leg over him, and use his very muscly chest to pull myself all the way up so I’m straddling him.

I remember this is his first time. Oh, god, what if I do it wrong and he doesn’t like it? What if we don’t do this again? Ok, I have just to be perfect for him.

He pulls my head towards his and greets my mouth with a kiss. Kissing Harry is the best thing and I lose myself to it. I have spit over most of my chin and my hands are buried in his hair when his cock slides against my arse and I’m reminded how very much I want that cock in me. I sit back.

“Ready?” I ask.

“So ready,” he says and I arrange myself and start to slide down on his very very nice cock. It takes longer than usual and maybe I should have let him finger me open a little longer but it hurts only a little in a very good way and I feel so full and I can’t think about anything except how good his cock is making me feel.

I want to come right now. I want this to last all night.

I look down at Harry who is looking up at me, completely blissed out, dopey grin on his face. I can change that. I brace myself against his shoulders and ride him the way my body has been yearning to ride him all night. All week. Since he walked into my pub.

He starts to move against me so as I’m sliding down, he’s slamming back up to me and I have never been fucked this good before. My mouth is hanging open and I think I’m grunting and I am coming all over his stomach and I see him squeeze his face as he pounds into me hard hard hard and then braces my hips so he can come when he is as deep into me as he can go.

I’m done. I am floating on a cloud of sex endorphins. He wiggles out of me and I lay down next to him, and let him deal with the condom and the mess I’ve made on him. He Vanishes it all with a wave of his hand.

“Jesus, fuck, and Merlin,” he says.

I know exactly what he means. He grabs my hand and in record time, I’m asleep.

 

***

 

I wake up the next morning as he’s getting back into bed. He lays down on his side and looks at me. “Hi,” he says.

“Morning,” I say back.

It takes us a while, but we eventually manage pants and robes and socks and make it to the kitchen for breakfast.

We probably need to have a talk. The talk. A talk.

He puts my tea in front of me and sits across from me at his small kitchen table. He has a pile of quidditch magazines pushed to the side, Ginny’s cover is the top one. It looks like it’s been used as a coaster and I’m faintly outraged on Ginny’s behalf. She wasn’t the rookie MVP of last year to be used as a coaster.

“So sex is not usually part of my helping a new gay friend package,” I say.

“I didn’t think so,” Harry says. He’s grinning at me over his mug.

“But if you wanted to do that again, I could find the time,” I say.

“Find the time,” Harry repeats, still looking amused. “Your boss, Cassius --”

“I know who Cassius is,” I interrupt.

“Right,” Harry says. “He said if I was interested, that it would probably speed things up if I told you how I felt and not wait on you to get your head out of your arse.”

Cassius, that traitor. “What!”

“His words,” Harry says. “So, I’m saying I am interested. Boyfriends, if you like. Or we can try dating and see how that goes." 

Harry wants to be my boyfriend? "Boyfriend is fine," I stutter. 

Harry grins at me and I stand up and kiss him because I can. 

 

***

 

Cassius is reading the paper at the counter when I come in. I want to cast a Tempus, but I left my flat on time, so I know I’m not late. I still feel like I should apologise for being late or something, but Cassius dramatically throws his paper down and leans back.

“You and Harry figure you shit out?” he says. He’s tipped so far back I think he’s liable to fall right over and hit his head.

“How dare you interfere with my love life!” I say.

“So you’re admitting that you love him,” Cassius says.

“I didn’t say that!” I retort.

“Go on, tell me what you were going to say.” He crosses his arms.

“You told Harry that I head my head up my arse!” I’m trying to remember why I’m indignant.

“Aye, I did.”

“I knew what I was doing the whole time.”

“Of course you did,” Cassius says in a tone that says the exact opposite.

“Most of the time,” I say.

Cassius nods at me. “So did your plan work?”

“It did,” I tell him.

“Great, get out there and get everything set up and I’ll see if you can get out of here early enough for a late dinner with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I say remembering after the words have left my mouth that he is, actually. “Well, he’s my boyfriend as of this morning,” I amend.

“See what happens when you get your head out of your arse,” Cassius says. He pulls out his bottle of good whiskey and pours a double measure into two glasses. He hands me a glass and then lifts his. I lift mine. I wait for him to say something embarrassing and or terrible again.

“To you and Harry,” he says. “To new beginnings with old friends.”

“He wasn't my -” I start to say.

“Drink the whiskey, Draco,” he says and I do. It’s smooth and burns cooly down into my stomach.

“Thank you,” I mutter to him. He claps me on my shoulder and I get to work, those limes aren't going to slice themselves. 

**Author's Note:**

> (I know that's not how Fidelius works.)
> 
> I am on [tumblr](https://numinousnumbat.tumblr.com/).


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